


The Waiting Game

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Peter is jealous, doesn't take them long to sort themselves out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Nightingale starts dating. Which is of no interest to Peter whatsoever. Obviously.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endeni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endeni/gifts).



> Written for endeni's 2016 fandom stocking.

After a long day of dealing with a case that turned out to have nothing to do with the Folly I was ready for a hot meal, food and bed, not necessarily in that order. So you can imagine my lack of excitement when I saw Nightingale coming out of the back door just as I parked up.

“Not another case?”

“Oh, Peter,” Nightingale said, looking a little more startled than a man leaving his own home had any right to. “I wasn't expecting you back yet.”

I noticed that he didn't answer the question. And that he was wearing a light grey suit that I hadn't seen before.

I waited a moment but since Nightingale seemed to be having some sort of internal struggle and I really did want a lie down I just muttered something about seeing him later and headed into the house.

* * * *

The next day I found myself at breakfast earlier than normal. I wasn't sure what I was expecting but when Nightingale joined me he was exactly the same as usual, if a little more _relaxed_ perhaps. But nothing immediately suspicious. So I got on with my work and had a lesson in the afternoon and everything seemed fine.

Everything was not fine.

* * * * *

We had just finished dealing with a case at the National Portrait Gallery involving a cursed painting when Nightingale suggested we pop into one of the pubs near Leicester Square for a quick drink before dinner. This wasn't an unusual suggestion so I didn't think anything of it. Until Nightingale greeted a man at the bar who'd been doing a very good job of looking like he was waiting for us.

He was an attractive man of about Nightingale's age (looks-wise obviously), with short brown hair and almost black eyes, wearing a dark purple almost black shirt over tight jeans that nevertheless fitted perfectly.

I followed Nightingale slowly and smiled at the stranger, who offered to buy us both a pint.

“Peter, this is Nathan.” He paused as Nathan moved in a little more closely than necessary to Nightingale as he leaned over the bar and gave our order. “We met at one of your father's gigs.”

Of course you did, I just refrained from saying.

“Oh, great,” was what I said instead, which wasn't all that much better. “I'll find us a table.”

I didn't stick around to see how disappointed Nightingale was, I was pretty disappointed in myself. What did I care if Nightingale was enjoying the company of some bloke he'd picked up at a gig? Or had picked him up? It's not like Nightingale had spent the past fifty years celibate. Probably. Not that I'd given it much thought.

Thankfully Nightingale and Nathan came to sit down at the table I'd found in the corner before I was able to tie my brain in to any more knots.

“So,” I said, trying to remember how to be an adult, “what do you do, Nathan?”

“I own an art gallery in Kensington,” he said. “Modernist stuff mostly, not Thomas' thing at all.”

He smiled at Nightingale and Nightingale's answering smile was one I'd never seen before, pleased and softly aroused all at once. It was making me very uncomfortable so I made as little polite small talk as I could and finished my drink far more quickly than was good for me.

“I'll see you later,” I said, interrupting Nathan's tale about a stray cat and a Picasso which I'd lost the thread of a while ago.

Nightingale didn't say anything as I left but Nathan did give me an assessing look that I didn't care for. I was not looking forward to breakfast.

* * * * *

As it happened I had nothing to worry about, because Nightingale didn't turn up to breakfast. In fact he didn't turn up for lunch either and I didn't see him again until he sat down to dinner. He didn't say anything about where he'd been, and I didn't ask. Everything was fine.

Everything was not fine.

* * * * *

If I'd been expecting sympathy from my friends I was in for a great deal of disappointment. Dr Walid and Sahra both suggested, using different terminology, that I go and get laid instead of walking around like a wet weekend. They didn't listen at all when I said we didn't know anything about Nathan though Dr Walid patted me on the arm when I complained that Nightingale had missed a lesson to go to a function at Nathan's art gallery, even though Nightingale had made a point of spending an extra hour going over some Latin with me the next day.

I was happy that Nightingale had something to occupy his time outside of the Folly.

I was not happy at all.

* * * * *

I've never been one for picking up random strangers but one night when Nightingale hadn't returned to the Folly I did find myself having a quite satisfactory kiss in a pub in Soho that might have turned into more, if I hadn't been distracted by green eyes staring at me, when that wasn't what I wanted at all.

I was in so much trouble.

I really was.

* * * * *

It all came to a head when we had to deal with a case in the wilds of Kent and it made more sense to spend the night instead of driving back to London. And because my life was turning into a desperately sad rom-com, we could only find one room in a B&B with two single beds that the landlady assured us could be “pushed together, no problem at all”.

As I'd spent most of the day wading into various rivers as we tried to remind them that no one was above the law, Nightingale sent me into the bathroom to shower and get warm and said he had some phone calls to make.

Call me childish if you like, but I couldn't help but be pleased at the way Nightingale's eyes took in my chest and the dip of my hips when the towel around my waist began to slip a little as I stepped out of the bathroom.

“Checking in with Nathan?” I asked as he replaced the phone on the night stand.

“Molly, actually,” he said. “Nathan and I are no longer...involved.”

I tried to tell my face to look sad but I'm not sure it was listening. “Oh?”

I sometimes forget that Nightingale has been on the planet a lot longer than me, that terminology might have changed but human behaviour hasn't, because he was looking at me as if he knew everything that had gone through my head for the last four inordinately long months and was waiting for me to prove him wrong.

I was very tempted to drop my towel, but I don't think either of us was quite ready for that. Instead I quickly got dressed, Nightingale politely turning away and looking through the take away menus the landlady had given us, and then sat down next to him.

“Chinese?” he suggested. The slight uplifting of his mouth was the only indication that he was teasing me.

“Okay,” I said, instead of “did you break up with Nathan because of me?” because I'm not that self-involved, honestly.

Nightingale sighed and answered my unasked question anyway. He's good like that. “I realised that Nathan deserved more of my time than I was prepared to give...That I preferred spending my time with you.”

I took a moment to digest this. “I like spending my time with you, too,” I said. “Even if...” Even if that's all this is, just spending time together, that will be all right, I didn't add.

“Peter,” he said and then stopped. I didn't dare turn to look at him but he put his long fingers on my chin and turned my head towards him.

Whenever I tell this story he pulls me forward into a kiss that made my toes curl. Whenever he tells it, I practically jumped into his lap.

I know which version I prefer.  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Waiting Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057125) by [momopods (momotastic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momotastic/pseuds/momopods)




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